“I don’t think you’ll take them for granted again,” she said. “I have faith in you.” Then she leaned over the table and gave me a kiss.
The words almost came out then—she had that kind of power over me. Something sloppy and complicated, like I don’t think I want to leave, but this thing between us is so intense I’m scared of it.
“I wonder if being friends with a powerful lawyer who’d do anything to protect her friends and family is rubbing off on me?”
Her lips pursed, eyes teasing. “You and I are not friends.”
I laughed, rubbing a hand across my jaw. “I’m sure some friends have sex in supply closets, but I think that number is low.”
She grinned around her fork. I caught her leg between mine, pressing my thigh against hers.
Then I took my phone out of my pocket and placed it on the table. Nodded at it. “My mom called me this afternoon. When we were at the park. I haven’t called her back yet, though.”
“Oh, shit.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah. Oh, shit.”
“When was the last time she called you?”
I pressed my lips together. “About a year? Maybe less? Sometimes we talk more—five, six times a year. We even meet up while traveling if we’re in spitting distance of each other.”
Although I hadn’t told Pop this yet, she’d seemed tired and a little more ragged the last time we’d met up. I’d smothered that memory, but it resurfaced happily now, especially since I was currently surrounded by a tiny community of people who wanted me to spend more time with them. Not only during sporadic visits that barely last a day.
“You ever go that long without talking to Lou and Sandy?” I asked.
Fiona grabbed her phone and flipped the screen around. “These are the text messages I’ve received this evening.”
Her parents, Roxy, and Edward were all on a group chat with messages filled with explicit language, middle-finger emojis, and funny pictures her parents tried to take. “I thought you didn’t see them all of last year?”
“Didn’t see them that much in person. No Tuesday nights at The Red Room. And spoke with them way less. But they still talk to me constantly, even if I don’t answer for days because I’m buried with work. We’ve always been like that.”
I smirked. “I see you reminding everyone in your family to file their tax returns.”
She slapped her forehead. “Every fucking year with these people. They were due a month ago.”
I laughed. “Yeah and I see you have a new ally in Edward.”
“It is nice to have a future brother-in-law with a business degree and a strong sense of decorum. Drives my sister up the wall.”
I set her phone down. Drained my glass of wine. “Maybe it’s not as normal, the way my mom communicates with me after all.”
“I think whatever you two feel comfortable with is normal,” Fiona said. “Trust me. You and I had, technically, very unconventional childhoods. But it was normal for us. Where is your mom, by the way?”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t know.”
She finished her dinner, licked her fork clean. “Where does she work at, like when she travels?”
I scratched my head, thought way back. “I’m not… well, I don’t know. Odd jobs, mostly. She’s a pretty decent mechanic herself, so I know she works at shops sometimes.”
She looked up at that. “Oh. Maybe she’s got some good news for you, then. A new job or something?”
“Yeah.” I appreciated her optimism. “I bet you’re right.”
She pointed at the bowl with her fork. “That was fucking delicious.”
“Told ya.”
“Pop must have appreciated that you took care of him when he needed a little extra help.”
I leaned forward, took her hand between mine. “One time, I must have been twelve or so, and Pop had to cancel your parents’ show at the last minute. I don’t know where you and your sister were, but your parents ate macaroni and cheese with me and Pop in that office. Your parents sat on the ground and shared the same bowl, and your mom told me it was the best dinner she’d ever had in her entire life ever.”
Fiona laughed at that. “That’s Lou and Sandy alright.”
I held her gaze. Admired how breathtakingly gorgeous she looked right now. I kissed the center of her palm. The inside of her wrist. Her breathing hitched.
“What’s next on the menu for our second date?” she asked.
Her pulse beneath my fingers was as fast as mine. I kissed it. I’d thought about this next part on the way over here. Hoped it was romantic since I was still new in that area.
“Would you dance with me?”
33
Fiona
I perched on the arm of my couch, biting the tip of my thumb, and watched Max peek through my record collection for the perfect song to slow dance to. Every time he slipped a record out to examine it, he looked impressed.
I couldn’t believe this night was fucking happening.
I hadn’t expected to respond so strongly to seeing Max in my apartment. Max cooking me dinner. Max drinking wine with me and laughing. Stealing my food. Kissing my cheek. Sharing his thoughts and secrets.
There was no section on my many spreadsheets marked intimacy. No section marked fun or comfortable or surprising. Yet if I had created spreadsheets to track the way that feelings between two people actually developed, Max would have had a perfect score.
My contract hung right next to my faded checklist—even now, I couldn’t stop peeking at it. I’d used that contract as a reason to resist his charm and charisma. But if I’d followed my own advice, I never would have known that absolute, euphoric pleasure of Max’s touch. I would never have known his lips on mine or the connection we shared in a million different ways.
Now I just needed to drum up enough courage to ask him to… what? Stay? I still wasn’t even sure what I wanted, except that thinking of his departure date made me nervous and unsettled.
But every time he turned to catch my eye, grinning at me while he admired a beloved album, every cell in my body rushed to reassure me that things were going to be okay, that these early days were magic, and overthinking things would ruin it. And overthinking had been my downfall last year.
“So all those dates of yours,” Max said. “Were any as fun as homemade macaroni and cheese and dancing to Motown?”
“We’re going with Motown, then?”
He winked, slipped an album by The Temptations onto the record player. “Of course, princess. We’re on a date. We’d be foolish not to.”
“Just My Imagination” filled my tiny sitting room. Max held out his hand, and I took it. He tugged me against his chest not a moment later, setting a swaying motion that was perfectly in time with the sweet, wholesome melody. I lifted my head up to find Max staring at me with a fiery, emotional intensity.
“In total, I dated five different men and went on probably close to twenty first dates with twenty different guys,” I said.
“Per your spreadsheet, I’m guessing.”
I nodded. Sighed when Max pressed his palm to my cheek. I kissed his hand. “Brendan was the guy who broke up with me right before the fire escape. He was the most serious relationship, but that’s not saying much.”